Far Out!
by The Real Muse
Summary: Sometimes you only get one shot at getting info from the enemy.
1. Default Chapter

FAR OUT!  
  
By: CindyR  
  
Chapter 1  
  
It began as a routine mission -- routine after a year of practice, that is. Alien transmissions had set off every alarm in the lab, sending the wheel- chair bound computer expert Norton Drake flying from a late lunch to his terminal. With painstaking labor and sandwich firmly in hand, he'd traced and triangulated until he could pinpoint the source of the highly-focused radio signal to within one square mile of its origin: the thickly wooded forests of Westfield State Park, Oregon. Army Scouts masquerading as forest rangers quietly cleared and evacuated innocent tourists; by Thursday afternoon the alien campsite had been isolated. Now, three o'clock in the afternoon -- precisely twenty-four hours after identifying the signal -- Omega Force lay to, ready to move in on a moment's notice, and Dr. Harrison Blackwood and Lt. Colonel Paul Ironhorse went ahead to scout the terrain.  
  
Actually, it was Harrison who had gone ahead to scout the terrain; Ironhorse was only along because he hadn't been able to persuade, cajole or threaten the physicist out of the plan. Ironhorse had protested the additional danger to 'non-combat personnel,' insisting that another reconnaissance was unnecessary -- Omega Force had more than enough information to move in and secure the area as it was. Harrison, however, had been adamant, referring to a report of unidentifiable electronic equipment being assembled, and insisting on seeing it for himself before Omega Force moved in and "blew it to atoms."  
  
Ironhorse had bristled immediately. "Are you saying my men are unnecessarily destructive?" he'd growled, taking up a stance approximately two inches from Blackwood's nose.  
  
Distinctly unimpressed, Blackwood had waved the challenge away with a genial smile. "Not at all, Colonel," he'd returned breezily, minutely adjusting the other's red beret for dramatic effect. "Let's just say that their enthusiasm is noteworthy and leave it at that."  
  
As there was very little to actually object to in that particular statement, Ironhorse had allowed the subject to drop and now, against his better judgment, found himself creeping quietly through the back brush towards the alien camp, Harrison at his side.  
  
To the casual observer, the camp looked much as any other -- a fire crackled in the flame pit and a merrily bubbling pot filled the immediate vicinity with a tantalizing aroma. Coffee, Ironhorse identified immediately. He sniffed appreciatively. Fresh brewed and piping hot. His stomach protested its empty state with a rumble at the second sniff. Duty first, he reminded himself. Breakfast will have to wait until after the primary objective has been secured.  
  
From all outward appearances, the camp was peaceful. It was only on closer examination that little anomalies could be discerned, discrepancies that belied the facade of normalcy. Take the handgun, for example, casually stuffed into the belt of the camp's lone occupant, an elderly hunter with a limp. Then there were the expressionless eyes peering over the scruffy beard, which could not quite conceal the radiation-induced cancer eating away the left half of his face. Here and there lay scattered fragments of unidentifiable electronic gear, further excuse for any reasoning person to run not walk to the nearest refuge.  
  
Ironhorse gripped his automatic a little tighter, comforted by the Beretta's weight. The gun delivered stopping power to spare, and long experience told him he'd need all he could get before the morning was out. Fingers tangled in his camos made him pause then Harrison's breath tickled his ear.  
  
"That's what I want," Harrison whispered, blue eyes twinkling with excitement. "See that jumble back there?" He pointed toward a section of the camp resembling nothing so much as an electronics yard sale. A brightly lit panel identifiable -- barely -- as the dashboard from a Ford truck, sat a few feet to the fore. "I've got to know what they're building."  
  
"Are you crazy?" Ironhorse's voice was just as quiet. "It's right up against the tents. There's no way to approach without being seen."  
  
"Where there's a will, Colonel," Harrison whispered back cheerfully. He punched Ironhorse's shoulder once before releasing him. "Wish me luck."  
  
"Wait!" But Blackwood was already on the move, creeping closer to the double set of tents in the clearing. Mutely cursing the scientist and his curiosity, Ironhorse followed. They crept silently through the undergrowth, stopping on the edge of the clearing as close to the slowly blinking dashboard as possible.  
  
"I can't see anything they're using for a power source." Harrison craned to see over a low bush. Absently brushing aside more of the concealing shrubbery, he crawled practically to the edge of the clearing, murmuring to himself. "That looks like an Atari computer game and that's...."  
  
"Psst. Come on, Blackwood." Moving more cautiously, Ironhorse caught up to his partner, snagging an ankle before Harrison would have disclosed himself. "We've got to fall back so I can call in Omega Force. We're too exposed here."  
  
Harrison raised a peremptory hand. "Just a minute, Colonel. Do you see that unit over there?" He pointed to a square box standing slightly apart from the rest and blinking serenely to itself. "Its design is appallingly similar to one the Army gave Clayton Forrester to play with back when they were still playing footsie. He theorized it was a cybernetic control device for one of the alien weapons' systems. That looks like the same design." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I'm going to need a closer look to be sure."  
  
"What would the aliens be doing building a weapon's system here in the woods?" Ironhorse protested, black eyes narrowed. Unfortunately, he could think of several reasons for the aliens' actions, none of them pleasant ones.  
  
At his shoulder, Harrison shifted to follow his line of sight. "My question exactly."  
  
"Wait!" Ironhorse grabbed an arm, yanking the scientist to a halt. His fingers slipped on the camouflage jacket and he was forced to use two hands to prevent the man from effecting an escape. "Omega Force can be here in fifteen minutes," he growled, patience exhausted. "You can wait that long, can't you?"  
  
Harrison freed his arm with an effort, adopting that tranquilly long- suffering smile that invariably made Ironhorse want to smack him. "Sorry, Colonel. You know the aliens destroy the equipment as soon as an attack begins. This may be my only chance." He jerked a dirty thumb toward the far tent. "If I can work my way underneath the rear flap, I should be able to get right up to the machine without being detected. It's standing only a few feet from the entrance."  
  
"You are crazy!" Ironhorse stared from man to alien mechanism with something akin to horror, remarking to himself that the real panic was not being able to tell which one was weirder. "There's a gap of at least six feet to get across before you even reach the first tent! You're sure to be seen!"  
  
"Not from the other side of the clearing," Harrison pointed out patiently. He twisted, ducked and was gone, moving through the brush with that loose- limbed grace with which he was blessed.  
  
Ironhorse aborted anther snatch and rocked back on his heels, swearing softly under his breath. Blast him! Wouldn't he ever learn to listen to reason? They had seen one alien; it was conceivable -- no, probable -- that there were more around. So what does Harrison do? Goes traipsing through the forest as if this were some kind of picnic! Muttering another curse, Ironhorse picked his way in a rough circle, circumnavigating the alien camp. He moved carefully, silent as a ghost, and indulging himself with the plan to have Harrison sit through another lecture on survivalist techniques -- and this time he'd make sure the scientist stayed awake through the whole thing! That would come after the very long talk they were going to have on the subject of following orders....  
  
He stopped himself. Harrison Blackwood was a scientist, teammate and even friend; he was also a certified lunatic. Convince him to follow orders? He'd have better luck convincing the aliens!  
  
Absently he brushed away a swarm of gnats, peering right and left into green shadows. Where was he? He circled the camp cautiously, on the lookout for his charge. He had to admit -- if only to himself -- that Harrison was getting pretty good at this sort of thing. There was no sign of the man at all. Maybe he didn't sleep through all those survivalist lectures.  
  
Wait.... There -- a flash of color against the green. Was it ... yes, Harrison! Now to collect the wayward doctor and....  
  
It was instinct that alerted him rather than sight or even sound -- the sense of a general wrongness about the forest itself. He narrowed his eyes. Someone was approaching from directly behind, and thus invisible to the engrossed scientist. A moment later and the foliage parted to reveal a woman -- or what had once been a woman -- hair awry and make-up streaked with mud. The alien hadn't seen Harrison yet, but discovery was inevitable if either continued on their present course.  
  
There was no decision necessary then; Harrison had to be protected at all costs. And the woman was almost upon him! With great deliberation, Ironhorse reached out and deliberately broke off a dried branch. In the quiet surroundings the snap sounded loud as a gunshot.  
  
With a satisfied smile, Ironhorse watched the alien swing about, seeking the source of the sound, then move in his direction. One part of his soldier's mind noted Blackwood, frozen still as a deer, absorbing the situation and playing it correctly. Good -- maybe the guy wasn't so hopeless after all. He waited, allowing the woman to move closer to him -- and farther from Harrison -- before attempting his own escape.  
  
What happened next was more a matter of happenstance than anything. So rapt had Ironhorse been in hi partner's dilemma that he failed to note the warning jangle of his own battle-honed senses. The woman was close now, almost upon him. Intending to slip away quietly, he turned, ... and ran smack into another alien, a large male, whose ebony skin gleaming dully in the sunlight.  
  
"Whoa!" he yelped, windmilling his arms in an attempt at changing direction. The creature, however, was far too fast for Ironhorse to dodge. Its first blow threw him backward into a large oak. Stunned, he barely registered the second, a clumsy but efficient right cross. He was aware of only a brilliant flash originating in the direction of his right jaw before the merciful blackness closed in. *** 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Blackwood moved silently, sneakered feet making no noise at all in the moist earth. He had to bite back a smirk when he remembered how often Ironhorse had railed at him for not paying attention to the survival lectures he insisted they all attend. Little did the good Colonel know that Harrison's sponge-like mind absorbed anything and everything thrown at it, filing it away until such a time as it became useful. It was certainly useful now. The future of the entire human race could rest on whatever information Harrison could glean about that device the aliens were building. If he waited until Omega Force arrived, it would be either removed by the aliens or destroyed in the resulting firefight. It was now or never.  
  
The smells of the camp grew more pungent the closer Blackwood crawled. Now he could make out the underlying burnt odor of coffee brewed too long. They'd probably made the stuff early this morning and left it to boil -- not that they would care. The entire camp was no more than camouflage designed to fool only the casual observer. It would be abandoned in toto when they'd achieved their objective -- whatever that was.  
  
Carefully parting the leaves of a small shrub, the scientist finally gained an unobstructed view of the camp. From where he was crouched, Blackwood could see the mysterious equipment -- portions of household appliances and computer games, mostly -- arrayed in configurations totally baffling to even someone with his eclectic background. He was just preparing to crawl closer, mesmerized by a tantalizing array of flashing lights on the far side of the console when the brush parted and a figure stepped into the clearing. No surfer ever looked so typically Californian: wavy blond hair fell over a brow which could have been sculptured bronze so perfect it was, and rippling muscles could not but be enhanced by the skimpy white tank top. He stood tall, sweeping the camp with a gaze of purest sapphire. The only thing missing, Harrison mused, was a surfboard. Then he looked closer, noticing for the first time the large radiation burn which gleamed wetly in the golden sun. Advanced cancer and hematoma. Another alien.  
  
"Greetings, Envoy." The elderly hunter straightened from the fire, adapting a respectful stance. "We have completed Stage II of our mission. I am wiring the projector now and await only your permission to proceed to the next step."  
  
"Hey, totally rad, dude!" the beach boy grinned. He sobered instantly. "Er ... I mean, the Advocacy is most anxious for this mission to be completed on schedule."  
  
"We are nothing without your counsel," the other returned evenly. "However, we will require additional supplies of platinum before we can continue with the positron destabilizer unit. There is so little of the metal available on this miserable planet."  
  
Positron destabilizer? Harrison inched closer, intrigued. What kind of power levels are these beings working with?  
  
Patently uninterested in excuses, the blond alien flipped back his hair impatiently. "Where are your other two? They are needed for the briefing."  
  
"Checking the perimeter. I will collect them for you." The hunter turned, striding directly for the bush under which Harrison crouched. Harrison held his breath.  
  
"Wait." The Envoy held up a hand, clearly annoyed. "I will collect the two. You finish wiring the synchro-inertial projector so that Stage III may be begun without delay."  
  
The hunter returned to his seat and picked up an egg beater than had been heating in the fire; it glowed a dull cherry red though had not as yet begun to melt. "As you command," he intoned, watching fascinated as the skin on his decaying palm began to sizzle.  
  
The tall blond stepped to a small unit behind the hunter, which bore a large-loop radio antenna, and clicked a button on its mount several times. He then moved back into the brush, forcing Harrison to retreat to the cover of a fallen tree. His mind reeled under the enormity of the alien plan. A positron destabilizer! Disrupting antimatter on even a subatomic scale would result in a tremendous energy burst. And a synchro-projector.... Harrison bit his lip, horrified. The aliens were building a particle beam weapon using synchronous antimatter -- a positron laser! If they ever managed to complete such a weapon, the earth was doomed for certain!  
  
Grimly determined, Harrison began to circle the camp, moving ever nearer the alien mechanism. He needed to get closer -- must be prepared to seize any opportunity to study the technology the aliens were using. If he could discover the secret of this, their greatest weapon, Earth might at last have a fighting chance when the alien armada arrived a few years hence!  
  
His whole being consumed with the need to reach a vantage point closer to the enigmatic machinery and mind brimming with dreams of discovery, Harrison neglected to check the path behind him. All he saw -- all that existed -- was his target. Closer....  
  
A noise from his right froze him into immobility. Heightened senses warned him of someone nearby. Aliens? When he wasn't disintegrated on the spot, Harrison gathered his courage, turned and crawled nearer the disturbance. It was coming from the near boundary of the alien camp. The scientist shifted a branch carefully so as not to rustle the leaves and stared. Shock nearly made him release it with a snap.  
  
There! It was Ironhorse lying at the feet of a short woman in a perfectly tailored suit, which now carried the dirt and grime of several days' rough use. The incongruity would have been ludicrous had the woman actually been a woman and not the cold blooded alien killer she truly was.  
  
Directly to the woman's fore stood a large negro male, legs braced and large fists clenched. Dressed in Army jacket and olive pants, the man was nearly invisible against the forest shadows, and somehow all the more menacing because of it.  
  
Blackwood's quicksilver mind summed up the situation instantly if not encouragingly. Ironhorse was down for the count, and Blackwood -- untrained and unarmed -- was defenseless against the two alien soldiers. The only hope Ironhorse had was for the arrival of immediate reinforcements -- Omega Force.  
  
Creeping silently backward, Harrison retreated several yards into the brush and reached for his mobile telephone. Before he could speak, however, some sixth sense brought his head up ... to stare directly into the arctic blue eyes of the surfer type the others called "Envoy."  
  
"Your device cannot help you, dude." Its voice was as expressionless as its features, making the slang outré. "You are mine, now."  
  
"Just like that, huh?" Harrison knelt quickly, fingers automatically scooping up a stout branch lying beside the path. "You want me, come get me," he taunted, pleased that the terror knotting his gut hadn't yet reached his voice.  
  
The perfect features of the possessed body creased grotesquely in what Harrison assumed it used for a smile. To the scientist it resembled nothing so much as a macabre parody of human amusement -- or alien contempt. It started forward, unaffected by the possibility that its enemy could actually do it harm with no more than a piece of wood. Air whistled with the branch's passing and contempt shifted to surprise as it was forced to retreat, narrowly avoiding Harrison's vicious wipe. Undeterred, the surfer-envoy continued to advance on the grimly determined human.  
  
Harrison stood at ready, adrenalin pumping a fresh surge of energy through his system. The alien's pause had given him that one precious moment he needed to analyze the situation; it didn't look good. He was a novice, relatively untrained in the martial arts yet not completely uninformed. One kata in particular replayed itself in his mind, one Norton practiced every day since they had begun working out together. A large tree loomed sturdy at his back and.... Yes! He had one chance. Harrison doubted he'd be granted another.  
  
If only the alien could be suckered in....  
  
Harrison feinted another swing, the branch passing harmlessly past the creature, clumsy and wide open. Harrison could almost see the alien mind working: Now -- while the human's guard was down....  
  
The pseudo-beachboy rushed in, arms wide to prevent Harrison's escape, never noticing the trailing end of the make-shift bo until it had snagged between the spread legs. The muscular body crashed heavily into the tree where it hung, momentarily stunned. A moment was all Harrison needed.  
  
Harrison disentangled the staff with a swift movement, then reversed the stick, driving the broken point deep into the tanned throat. A frothy gurgle unhearable from a distance of more than a yard struggled past that bloody wound, but no scream, for which Harrison was grateful. With a grunt, he pulled the stick free and plunged it home once again into the creature's chest. It hung impaled for a long instant, then slid down the trunk, dead before reaching the ground.  
  
Harrison fell back, swiping ineffectually at the sweat on his forehead. Disgust twisted his features as the body began its inevitable dissolution, gelatinous flesh and foam soaking both clothing and forest floor. With an effort he tore his eyes away from the scene and stumbled back into the bush, desperately praying the fracas had gone unremarked by the other aliens in the camp. He ran blindly for several yards before collapsing to his knees and fumbling for his communicator. Habit alone dialed the correct number, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Norton picked up the line on the first ring.  
  
"Yo!" Drake responded, tenor voice obscenely cheerful considering the circumstances.  
  
Harrison's frantic whisper wouldn't have carried more than a couple of feet, and he could hear fumbling on the far side as the computer whiz increased the gain. "Norton, are you there?"  
  
"Right here, Doc. What's the problem?"  
  
Blackwood heaved a sigh of relief and squatted back on his heels, muscles threatening to turn to water. "We've run into some trouble, Norton. Contact Omega Force and tell them to move in now. Ironhorse has been captured. I'll try and stall them as long as I can."  
  
"You'll try to what?!" Drake demanded, aghast. "Stall who? Harrison?"  
  
But the scientist ignored the frantic hail. If Ironhorse was going to survive, Blackwood would have to act immediately. He could only pray he wasn't too late. *** 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
Fear adding speed to his steps, Blackwood made his way back to the alien encampment, prudence halting him behind one of the tents. From there he commanded a good view of the camp itself. The three aliens ringed an unconscious body, Ironhorse's camos blending him neatly into the leaf- covered earth. From where he stood, Harrison couldn't even tell if the Colonel was still breathing. He could even be dead....  
  
No! Blackwood rejected the possibility instantly. He'd lost too many of those he cared about to the alien war: Karen, Kensington, his parents ... so many more. He wasn't going to lose another friend to them too! Heart thumping wildly in his chest and still bereft of a plan, Harrison paused to listen.  
  
"Tchu-quar te nage," the elderly hunter began, only to be interrupted by the third alien -- the woman.  
  
"Speak as the body would speak," she commanded brusquely, "in case we are observed."  
  
"This one was discovered in the brush," the black explained to the hunter. "It is not known whether it was alone."  
  
The woman poked the soldier's limp form with the toe of one expensive boot. "The Envoy should be warned. He is our only contact with the Advocacy."  
  
"We are nothing without their council," the hunter intoned as though in litany. He knelt, peering intently into the Colonel's slack features. "This creature yet lives?"  
  
The black nodded. "It does."  
  
"I shall take its body for the information it contains." The hunter stretched out a hand, reaching for the helpless Ironhorse. "If it is one of many, we shall need to know."  
  
"Wait!" Blackwood roared, panicked.  
  
Three guns swung on him as the scientist stepped out of the brush. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, but Harrison forced himself to show no expression save a mildly contemptuous sneer. "To life immortal!" he said, echoing a phrase he'd learned in a town named Beaton almost a year ago.  
  
The three alien soldiers exchanged a very human look of puzzlement, but held their fire. Blackwood took a deep breath and plunged on. "It was necessary for me to absorb this body for the information it contains," he explained, patting his chest. "The Advocacy has searched for these two for a long time. They will be pleased we have captured them."  
  
The aliens looked vaguely interested at the possibility. "Thank you, Envoy," the large black said, bearing yellow teeth in his impression of a deprecating smile. It reminded Harrison of a feeding shark. "Shall we take this one's body as well?"  
  
"No!" Blackwood caught himself. "I mean, we shall need this one later, after this body ... has ... um ... spoiled." Yuck, he added silently.  
  
"The envoy is wise," the woman agreed. "The human scum may yet be of use to us." She stepped towards the still man, pulling an old-fashioned hypodermic from one pocket. "I will send it into the Qa'agh sleep until it is needed."  
  
Harrison fancied he heard a muffled grunt of alarm and shot forward, panic rising. "No!" he yelled, arresting the creature as she/it knelt. "I ... I.... need it. For something. ... Now." Blackwood dared a look at his fallen friend, realizing with a jolt that the black eyes were fixed on him with an intensity Harrison had rarely seen. Raw emotion -- grief, fear, and a murderous rage -- hung suspended within the glittering obsidian. He must have heard me say I was an alien, Harrison thought. Hang on, Colonel -- trust me just a little bit longer. With an almost imperceptible sigh, Ironhorse closed his eyes again, never uttering a sound.  
  
Blackwood schooled his features into an expressionless mask, calmly meeting the suspicious looks of the three aliens. "How near is your task to completion?" he asked formally, playing for time. These three might not completely trust him, but they didn't seem to be overly bright, either. Not like Adrian had been.  
  
"Our work progresses well, Envoy," the woman replied respectfully, brushing torn nylons as she regained her feet. "Instructions are coming in daily from the fleet, although we shall soon have to move our reception site to maintain adequate contact."  
  
That answers one question, Harrison thought smugly. "There are no problems with the ... uh ... equipment's assembly? he asked, fishing for all he was worth.  
  
"None but what you are already aware, Envoy," she answered. Darn. "Of course should we not complete our task within the next terran week," the woman went on after a moment, gesturing at the mechanism the beach boy had used earlier, "we shall no longer have access to the great wisdom within the fleet."  
  
She finished so casually that Harrison almost missed the implication of that statement. "Oh ... uh ... out of contact, of course."  
  
She peered at the scientist sharply. "Of course, Envoy, until the planet circles its sun once again. But you do know all of this...?"  
  
"Of course." Harrison wandered idly around the camp into the general direction of the tantalizingly close and still unidentified console by the tents. "You have ... done well. The Advocacy will be pleased when I report." He ran his hands over a baffling lump of wires and lights. "Very pleased, indeed."  
  
The three aliens exchanged another look. "But you already reported, Envoy." The elderly hunter stepped forward, a pace ahead of the other two. "The real Envoy has already reported."  
  
"You are a human," the black man accused. He stepped to Harrison's right, flanking his teammate, while the woman moved left, cutting off any hope of escape from that direction. "You will now die."  
  
Back to the wall and with no place to run, Harrison took the offensive as Ironhorse had taught him over a dozen campaigns together. Channeling terror into fury, Harrison blew up. "Fools! Tch-no da-ka-TAY!" he roared, repeating the only alien phrase he knew. It was enough. The three stopped in their tracks.  
  
"Forgive us, Envoy. We meant no harm...." the hunter began, bobbing obsequiously.  
  
"The Advocacy shall hear of your stupidity!" Harrison raged, on a roll. "I...."  
  
"Everybody freeze!" thundered a voice from the woods.  
  
Blackwood thought he'd never heard anything so sweet in his life! Those dulcet tones belonged to Sgt. Coleman! The cavalry had arrived! Without hesitation, Harrison dove to the ground out of the line of fire, dimly aware of the three aliens drawing weapons. Their first shots took out the equipment, as expected. The panels blew in a multi-colored flare of sparks and glass, spattering the clearing with shards. They took time to loose a second burst into the foliage surrounding the camp, then they were off and running, seeking escape among the thick trees. Leaving the physicist on hand to assist the downed Ironhorse, Omega Force went after them to a man.  
  
Gratefully, Blackwood levered himself up off the ground, peering around nervously. There had been no opportunity to discover whether these three were the only aliens in the vicinity. The coast seemed to be clear, however, so he risked coming to his feet, tensed for anything which might happen.  
  
"Freeze!" came a curt command from the ground. Moving only his eyes, Harrison slowly met the obsidian stare that pierced him through. Ironhorse forced himself to his knees, one hand tightly gripping the 9mm Beretta aimed at Harrison's heart. "Don't even twitch or I'll drill you."  
  
"We've been through this before, Colonel," Harrison pointed out, very careful to not even twitch. "Pull out a Geiger counter and clear me."  
  
Ironhorse raised the gun higher, holding it rock steady. "I'm going to do just that as soon as one of my men get back to watch you. Then I'm giving Omega Force a refresher course on basic identification procedure."  
  
"They shouldn't have left us alone without checking," Harrison realized, wincing at the security gaff.  
  
The soldier tipped his head in acknowledgement. "Precisely ... Doctor. I refuse to compromise the Project by taking any chances. I ... I heard you talking that language. Until you're cleared, I ... can't believe you."  
  
"Understandable, Colonel," Blackwood replied, regarding the Beretta nervously. "I'd still feel better if you were pointing that cannon some place else."  
  
Defiantly, Ironhorse inched to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. "I'll bet you would. Just ... stay where you are...." He took a single step backward, realigning his target automatically. His heel caught on a tree root and, still shaken from his ordeal, he overbalanced, unable to correct in time. With a loud "Woof!" he went down, winded.  
  
Concern overriding his respect for the man's martial prowess Harrison leaped forward, kneeling beside the supine figure after carefully kicking the gun to the side. Ironhorse lay so still that Harrison was certain he'd passed out again. Then the dark head jerked up, eyes revealing a fear which was only partly due to the fact that he was virtually nose-to-nose with a suspected alien. He was capable of little more than a hoarse squawk, but one hand scrabbled for the serrated commando knife strapped to his leg. Harrison caught the hand firmly, surprised when it did not complete its grab. "Easy does it, Paul. No need to neutralize me, yet."  
  
The hand resisted only slightly before falling away from the haft. "Harrison?"  
  
Blackwood smiled, a genuinely affectionate smile which lit his eyes from within. Humming to himself he routed in the voluminous pockets concealed by his jacket, extracting a tiny box-shaped device and thumbing it on. It emitted a series of low clicks and a red needle quivered weakly. "Background radiation only. See? It's me, Colonel. You know, this is happening a bit too often for my peace of mind."  
  
"That makes two of us, Doctor." With a sigh, Ironhorse reclaimed his dropped pistol and holstered it. "You and I are going to have to have a talk on enemy infiltration," he mumbled, leaning back against the tree bole and glaring at the offending root.  
  
Harrison's expressive features fell. "I thought I did a pretty good job of infiltration," he objected, mildly hurt. "It worked didn't it?"  
  
Ironhorse offered him a mischievous smile, then winced and rubbed his bruised jaw. "I want you to teach me. You did a good job, Harrison. Did you get what you wanted?"  
  
Praise from Ironhorse was as rare as snow in southern L.A. Pleased, Harrison dropped from his knees to the ground turning until he could lean beside the soldier. The sound of sporadic firing in the distance provided an odd counterpoint to the peaceful serenity of the little clearing, but the solid shoulder just touching his was comforting in it familiarity. He hadn't gotten the particle beam weapon, but both he and Ironhorse had escaped with their lives. "Yes, Colonel," he returned dreamily. "I got what I wanted." With a sigh, he settled back to await the return of Omega Force and the ride home.  
  
*** 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
"Just think of it, Suzanne -- an antimatter laser!" Harrison swirled his brandy, warming the aged liquor between his hands. "The destructive power of such a weapon is virtually inconceivable!"  
  
Microbiologist Suzanne McCullough leaned back in her chair, crossing long, sleek legs at the knee. "I'm afraid to imagine how close we came to losing the entire war. We're having enough trouble fighting the aliens with what they have, but an antimatter laser...." She shuddered theatrically. "It's a good thing you discovered them in time."  
  
"What makes you so certain they're stopped, Doctor?" Ironhorse shifted uncomfortably in his position on the sofa, bruises protesting the movement. "We may have stopped them this time but there's no reason they can't simply start over somewhere else."  
  
Suzanne too raised an inquiring brow. "Paul has a point. If the basic elements are as common as you said, this could be reproduced by another triad anywhere in the country."  
  
"They're out of contact with their people for at least another year." Harrison spoke the words triumphantly, beaming at the light the phrase brought to the others' eyes. "The whole reason they were working so deep in the woods was to get directions for building the device."  
  
"How do you know that?" Ironhorse asked, honestly impressed.  
  
"I asked them."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Harrison smiled reflectively. "We had quite a conversation going. Another few minutes and I might even have found out where that Advocacy of theirs is hiding."  
  
"Yeah, I'll bet." Ironhorse reached for his own brandy glass then grimaced, both hands going to his temples. "One thing you can say about them -- that alien could throw a punch. My head still hurts." Harrison forestalled the attempt and handed him both snifter and aspirin produced for the occasion. "Thanks. Did you learn anything else while you were ... uh ... chatting with the girls?" he finished snidely.  
  
"Not much." The scientist sighed regretfully then rose, inborn nervous energy impelling nervous motion. "I spent most of the time acting pompous to avoid suspicion. The alien army doesn't seem to be that much different from our own military, from what I could see."  
  
Ironhorse opened his mouth to let loose an offended retort, then shut it with a snap. Instead of speaking, he sat quietly, regarding Harrison with so thoughtful an expression that the scientist retreated suspiciously. Rather than a quip, the soldier said, simply, "I didn't thank you for getting me out of there. I appreciate it, Blackwood."  
  
The physicist made a dismissive gesture, a rare flush suffusing his cheeks. "Nothing you wouldn't have done for me." He scowled as a new possibility presented itself. "Or nothing you didn't do for me." He sat down lightly on the coffee table, meeting the puzzled black eyes with a look of enlightenment. "How did you get captured? Watching out for my back?" Ironhorse cleared his throat noisily, answering the question clearly enough. "I thought you were a little clumsier than usual." Harrison smiled warmly, disconcerting the soldier further. "Thanks."  
  
"Guess we're even then." Ironhorse met the smiling blue eyes and a spark flashed between them, warming the room like a shaft of light.  
  
Suzanne primly adjusted her hemline, drawing a glance from the two males. "Now that you two have started a mutual appreciation society, I expect to hear a little less arguing -- especially at six in the morning." She tossed back a strand of long brown hair, dimpling slightly. "Some of us need our beauty sleep, you know."  
  
"Some, perhaps," Harrison returned gallantly. "But not you." He wiped away her flattered smile by adding, "No more than six or seven hours, anyway."  
  
As though embarrassed by his own congeniality, Ironhorse's gratitude faded into a scowl. "Be that as it may, about future reconnaissance...."  
  
Harrison drained his brandy in a gulp. "I'd better go see how Norton's making out with those scraps I managed to salvage."  
  
Ironhorse tried again. "The next time I...."  
  
"He's pretty fast with these things you know." Harrison deposited his glass with a clink, and gained his feet.  
  
"The next...."  
  
"Good night, Colonel," the scientist called, stepping over McCullough's legs and disappearing around a corner. "See you later, Suzanne."  
  
Ironhorse struggled to follow but the lanky figure was gone before he could escape the couch. He emitted a frustrated snort, then faced the smiling woman with spread hands and lopsided smile. "Do you think it was something I said?"  
  
*** 


End file.
